Never Return

by Stephen Barnes

  “I assume the property is vacant,” Evans said.

  “Yes. Alan let it on a temporary basis for use as a storage facility. The arrangement doesn’t end until Friday but there’s nothing stored here. Whoever it was must have moved out early. They’ve still got the keys. Alan gave me the spares.”

  “Seems likely it was being used for another reason. Did Alan Grant give you a name?”

  “No but whoever it was must have known about the subway.”

  “And that isn’t common knowledge.”

  “That’s right. We only know about it from the Thorbury family documents which Paul borrowed.”

  “Okay. You can leave this to us now. Thanks for your help Carol. I’ll have to take the keys. We may need access to the property for some time. We’ll return them to Alan Grant when we’ve finished.”

  “What should I tell him?” Carol asked, handing the keys to Evans.

  “Best not to tell him anything for now. We’ll visit him later this morning.”

  Carol departed and Evans turned his attention to the job in hand. “Let’s check it out,” he said to Curtis and Turnbull. “Just one of you. We don’t want a crowd down there if there’s evidence which might be disturbed. You go Tessa.”

  Turnbull took one of the torches and descended to the floor of the subway.

  “Do you have enough light?” Evans asked.

  “Just about Sir. The space down here is huge. It’s like an underground palace; tiled walls, elaborate supporting columns. It must have cost an absolute fortune.”

  “What can you see other than the interesting architecture Tessa?”

  “Sorry Sir. There’s rubble and earth on the floor from when the hole was dug and there’s another ladder and I can see bank notes scattered around. There’s lab equipment, storage bins, lamps and extension leads too. Looks like they were doing a bit of chemistry.”

  “A drugs lab?”

  “I’d say so. It’s not very pleasant down here and there are loose bricks in the ceiling which might be about to fall on my head.”

  “Come back up Tessa, we’ll get the forensics guys on the job.”

  “Whoever rented the unit won’t know the lab’s been discovered,” Marsh said. “We could stake it out until they come back.”

  “We could but if this is linked to our murders, I doubt if anyone is likely to return here. They’d have to assume that Michael had told me about this place before he was killed in which case, a stakeout would just be a waste of time.”

  While Evans and Marsh speculated, Carol drove back to her office. She was a careful driver who conscientiously checked her mirrors before every manoeuvre. The black Clio was close behind as it had been since she’d left the car park.

  The journey from the Lord Alfred Trading Estate to Carol’s office wasn’t one many people would have needed to take and the side street she’d just turned into only led to her building’s car park. She took out her fob to activate the barrier and noticed the Clio half way down the street. No one had got out of the car and it was too far away for her to see the driver. She parked and entered the building through the staff entrance. Five minutes later, the black Renault had ceased to concern her.

  The detectives arrived at the station as Carol was settling back at her desk. Fuller and Garton had made an unusually swift return from their assignment at the university and were keen to report their findings.

  “The housemates told us Sarah had been expecting a visit yesterday morning from Tom Thorbury about IT project work,” Fuller told Evans.

  “What time was she expecting him?”

  “At nine thirty.”

  “And they left before he was due to arrive?”

  “Yes Boss. They had a lecture at nine.”

  “That confirms Tom Thorbury as our number one suspect,” Evans said.

  “He didn’t seem stupid enough to commit murder in a house he’d arranged to visit,” Marsh remarked. “He must have realised Sarah would tell someone about the meeting. And anyway, it’s unusual for a recruitment company to make house calls.”

  “It didn’t seem unusual to them,” Fuller said.

  “Why didn’t they tell us about this yesterday?” Evans asked.

  “They said it was the shock of the news. It only just came back to them,” Garton explained.

  “We need to head for Palace House on City Square. His Lordship has some questions to answer,” Evans said to Marsh before turning to Curtis and Turnbull. “Are you both up to speed on the case history?” he asked.

  “We were fully briefed by Sergeant Marsh,” Turnbull replied.

  “Good. I need you to find Charlotte Thorbury and get confirmation of Tom’s story about the request to find Simeon a job. It would also be useful to find out if Charlotte knows Maxine Biggerstaff and if so, what she can tell us about her.”

  The DCs were pleased to receive such an important assignment and waited eagerly as Evans fished a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

  “Tom Thorbury gave me the contact details for his mother,” Evans said, handing the note with the address and telephone number to Turnbull. “We don’t know for certain that Charlotte is living there so call the mother first. Tell her we need Charlotte’s help in connection with the murder of Simeon Gilbert who we believe she knew at university.”

  Turnbull glanced at the note. “Long Malden, Cheshire. Very posh,” she said. “What do we call her?”

  “Lady Thorbury I guess. According to Tom, Charlotte moved back there when she finished university. You need to see her face to face but it’s not a long trip and you can use one of the pool cars. If Charlotte has moved elsewhere, her mother should be able to put you in touch with her. Hopefully, she won’t have gone too far.”

  Chapter 28

  Marsh was at the wheel of the unmarked police car heading towards Palace House. Evans looked at Fuller and Garton who were on the back seat, relishing the thought of the imminent encounter with Tom Thorbury.

  “Remember what I told you,” Evans said. “We’re asking him to assist with our enquiries. I don’t expect any trouble.”

  “We can deal with any lack of co-operation Boss,” Fuller said.

  “Make sure you don’t encourage it,” Evans demanded. “We want him to come quietly.”

  “Sure Boss,” Fuller said. “No worries.”

  City Square was just a five minute drive from the police station. Marsh found a parking space close to Palace House and the team scurried inside and took the lift to the third floor.

  The woman who greeted them was taken aback by the sudden appearance of the four detectives. “Can I help you?” she asked with a slight tremble in her voice.

  “We’re from City police,” Evans said. “I’m Detective Inspector Evans. I was here yesterday. We need to see Tom again urgently. Is he in his office?”

  “No. He isn’t here today. I’m Sandra Peach, Tom’s personal assistant. He’s in Birmingham. We’re planning to set up an office there.”

  “Was Tom here first thing yesterday morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know what time he arrived at the office?”

  “He was here when I got in at eight o’clock.”

  “Did he go out at any time before our visit?”

  “No. He was here until he went for lunch after you left. What’s all this about?”

  “We have to contact Tom about a confidential matter. Where will he be in Birmingham?”

  “He’s got a number of offices to view. I couldn’t say exactly where he’ll be. You could try his mobile.”

  Evans took out his phone and the business card Marsh had found at Stoney Street. He called the mobile number. “Voicemail,” he said.

  “He might be driving,” Sandra Peach suggested.

  Evans waited for the message tone. “Tom, this is Detective Inspector Evans, Thorbury City Police. We met yesterday at your office. I need to speak to you again urgently. Please call me back on this number as soon as you can.”

  Seconds
after leaving the message, Evans received a call from Chris Hinton. “Will do,” he said after listening to the Superintendent’s instruction.

  “Hinton’s got a lead on Maxine’s whereabouts,” Evans told the other three detectives. “You can all get back to the station. Marshy, you see Chris Hinton. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Fuller and Garton trouped off behind Marsh as Evans crossed the corridor and entered the premises of Grant and Barker. He was welcomed by Alan Grant who invited him into the office next to the reception area.

  “Nice to see you again,” Grant said. “What brings you here?”

  “I need information about unit twelve on the Lord Alfred Trading Estate. You lent the keys to Carol Jones this morning. She’s informed us that someone has dug through to the subway underneath the unit.”

  “A subway under the estate?” Grant was surprised by the revelation. “I didn’t know about that.”

  “Did your firm build the units?”

  “Yes but nothing like that came to light when we bought the land.”

  “The subway was built long ago for the first Earl to access the station.”

  “But why would anyone dig through to it from inside one of our units?”

  “We think it was being used as a drug manufacturing facility. The unit above it was literally the perfect cover. Who rented it?”

  Alan Grant considered his answer. “The estate hasn’t proved as popular as we’d hoped,” he admitted. “I managed to let unit twelve for six months. The tenant needed storage space and said it was a good location. He paid the rent up front in full.”

  “It wasn’t paid in cash by any chance?”

  “I didn’t ask for cash but it was offered so I took it.”

  “How much did he pay?”

  “Eight grand. I didn’t charge the full rate. I was grateful for what I could get.”

  “It’s still a lot to pay for storage.”

  “That didn’t seem to bother him and it did include rates and utilities.”

  “The offer of cash didn’t arouse any suspicions?”

  “Not really. The guy seemed respectable enough. At the time, four of the units on the estate were unlet. What would you have done?”

  “Do you have any documentation?”

  “No. There wasn’t a written contract.”

  “What name did he give?”

  “Alex Newton.”

  “Really? Can you describe him?”

  “He was young, well presented, early twenties. Tall, blond hair, well spoken. Seemed like the public school type. I never thought there was anything wrong about him. Drugs you said?”

  “We believe so.” Evans took out Tom Thorbury’s photograph. “Is your tenant in this picture?” He asked.

  Evans handed the photo to Grant who examined it carefully. “Well the man in the middle is Tom Thorbury of Thorbury Recruitment. He’s got the office suite next to us. I’d say the photo’s a few years old. The lad next to him looks like a younger version of Alex Newton. In fact, I’m sure it is.”

  “That’s interesting. But if he was your tenant, I doubt if he would have given his real name.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I couldn’t say. Did he ever visit your office?”

  “No. We met on site and did the deal there and then.”

  “And he still has the keys?”

  “Yes. The arrangement doesn’t end until Friday. I gave Carol the spares.”

  “Did he give you any contact details?”

  “He said he travelled a lot but I could contact him at the Parkland Hotel. It’s where he stays when he’s in this country.”

  “Have you ever contacted him there?”

  “I haven’t needed to.”

  “How well do you know Tom Thorbury?”

  “I’ve spoken to him a couple of times. He hasn’t been in the building for long. Is he involved in this?”

  “He’s provided information about Thorbury Hall which has proved useful,” Evans said, reluctant to pursue a discussion about Tom Thorbury. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention my visit. The commercial property market is still sluggish then?”

  “It’s been tough but it’s starting to go the right way.”

  “Well I’m afraid unit twelve will be unavailable for a while. We’ll need to keep the keys. It may be linked to a case involving three murders.”

  “I see. Is there much damage to the unit?”

  “There’s just a hole in the floor. The subway obviously wasn’t discovered when the units were built.”

  “At least we know about it now. We’ll check it out when you’ve finished.”

  “It may be a while before you can get back in there. We’ll keep you informed.”

  During the walk back to the station, Tom Thorbury returned the Inspector’s call, expressing concern about the need for an urgent response. He told Evans he’d be back that afternoon and agreed to report to the police station at 4pm. The aristocrat’s alibi had removed the need for an immediate arrest.

  Chapter 29

  “What do we know about Eddie?” Hinton asked.

  “Only what we’ve learned from Tom,” Evans replied. “He’s just a kid, nineteen or twenty years old and the brothers don’t have a close relationship.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes. But if Eddie was Alan Grant’s tenant, that links him to the drugs trade and possibly to Simeon and Michael as well.”

  “Which would put him in the frame for the murders. But why would he have claimed to be Alex Newton?”

  “It’s hard to say without knowing more about him. The Parkland Hotel has never had a guest called Alex Newton or Eddie Thorbury. Eddie must know that Alex and Tom are friends but he couldn’t pass himself off as Newton. He and Eddie would make a very odd pair of bookends.”

  “We’ll park the name issue for the time being,” Hinton said. “Gary and Tessa are on the way to see Charlotte. The mother’s confirmed that she still lives with her. She works for an insurance company in Chester. They’re meeting her there.”

  “We need them to get as much as they can about Eddie and warn them that he’s a suspect. They need to be cautious about Charlotte as well,” Evans stated.

  Hinton looked at Marsh who was standing next to Evans in the Superintendent’s office.

  “I’ll do it now,” Marsh said before hurrying away.

  “I’ve sent Fuller and Garton to London,” Hinton told Evans. “Maxine was at her parent’s house. She wasn’t trying very hard to escape our attention. The Met found her almost straight away. She’d taken a taxi to Thorbury Central and caught an early train to Euston. She said she panicked when she realised she could go to prison for false accounting and money laundering but she’s got a solicitor on her case and says she’s got nothing to hide. Fuller and Garton will bring her back to Thorbury tomorrow morning. Her solicitor is arranging for a local firm to represent her here.”

  “And Tom will be assisting us later as well,” Evans added. “We’ve got a lot to work on now.”

  As the two senior officers basked in the positive developments, Gary Curtis listened to the new instructions from Sergeant Marsh having received the call just before he and Tessa Turnbull were about to meet with Charlotte Thorbury.

  After Curtis had briefed his colleague, they entered the lobby of the office building where Charlotte was waiting to meet them. “We can talk outside. I need to smoke,” she announced before leading the DCs back to the car park. A cigarette was in her mouth seconds later.

  Charlotte still showed signs of the student party lifestyle which both Curtis and Turnbull had left behind. Her clothes appeared to be a size too small and the bloodshot eyes and drawn expression fitted well with the bad hair day a hastily fashioned ponytail had failed to cure.

  “What do you do here Charlotte?” Turnbull asked, more out of curiosity than necessity.

  “I spend all day speaking on the phone to people who are stupid enough to buy our insurance policies,” Charlotte r
eplied before drawing on the cigarette and blowing smoke in the direction of the detective.

  Turnbull waved the smoke away allowing Curtis to step into the communication breach. “As DC Turnbull explained on the phone,” he said. “We’re investigating the murders of Simeon and Michael Gilbert and Michael’s girlfriend, Sarah. We’re speaking to the people who knew them, trying to build up a picture of the victims. We understand you were at college with Simeon. How well did you know him?”

  “We were on the same course for three years. He was a typical student. The same as everyone else.”

  “Were you close friends?”

  “No, we weren’t close,” Charlotte replied bluntly before inhaling more smoke.

  “We have reason to believe he was dealing drugs.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “It’s come to light during the investigation.”

  Charlotte scowled at Curtis. “Simeon hated drugs. He would never have been involved in drug dealing,” she said.

  Curtis and Turnbull looked at each other with similar expressions of surprise.

  “How can you be so sure?” Turnbull asked, reclaiming the role of lead interrogator.

  Charlotte shrugged. “I just am,” she said.

  “Did you ever meet Simeon’s brother Michael?”

  “Simeon invited him to our graduation party. That was the only time we ever met.”

  “Did he make much of an impression?”

  “He was just a kid. We said hello and that was it.”

  “Do you know Maxine Biggerstaff?”

  “Maxine? Oh, you mean Cousin Elizabeth.”

  “Sorry?” Turnbull was puzzled by the response.

  “She calls herself Maxine because Elizabeth is too old fashioned. She’s my cousin.”

  “Your cousin?”

  “Yeah. Aunt Alice’s daughter.”

  “Your brother Tom said he didn’t know her.”

  “I doubt if his Lordship would be aware of our cousin Lizzie’s name change. ‘Biggerstaff’ might be lurking in the depths of his memory but he’d need a good business reason to recall it.”

  “Would it be fair to say you don’t have much time for Tom?”